To Dance with Her
by Useless-Materia
Summary: Shikamaru.  Ino.  Death and dance: a turning point.  One-shot.


A/N: Yes, there is work to be done on my other Shika/Ino. But that chapter is 80% finished, and this was just lying around in my writing folder, so I thought I'd put it out there for everyone. Ten Times will be updated soon! I promise!

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><p>She stood with her back to me, shadows from the trees sketched across her body, splintering her into puzzle pieces. She'd always been a myriad of mysteries, and now as she stood motionless over the body of her kill, I had to admit that I no idea what Ino was going to do next.<p>

Her mask hung from the tips of her fingers: the Vixen. So fitting for her. The tattoo on her right shoulder was fresh - still raised and slightly red around the edges. The white of her uniform was speckled with blood and some had gotten into her hair.

It hurt how terribly beautiful she was.

She stared down, fixated on the body at her feet. He hadn't heard her coming. No one could have. She hunted like a ghost: silent and swift.

My study of her stemmed from a growing worry; she still wasn't moving. Save for the slight fluttering of her hair in the breeze, she was as if made of stone. Everything in the small clearing was still and silent, but if I listened closely, I could hear her steady breathing, her rhythmic heartbeat. I was surprised to find hers more controlled than my own.

She had killed before, of course. Many times. But this one had been different I suppose. Her first mission as ANBU, but it hadn't gone as smoothly as I had planned and the error was Ino's. Her approach had been silent and her presence undetectable, and yet the first wound she inflicted (what should have been the _only_ would she'd need to inflict) had been off. Her kunai had missed its target and just barely punctured the man's jugular. He'd been bleeding profusely. She'd finished it quickly, but it had not been the clean, nearly painless kill we had hoped it would be.

The target wasn't a ninja, but he held valuable information and he had to be eliminated. Ino understood this. I knew she did. But she was still standing there staring at that bloody body.

Suddenly she turned her head just slightly and her profile came into view. I was thinking about how striking she was, peppered with shadows, when she finally spoke.

"Did you know I have never danced with a man?" She shifted her gaze up toward the sky, but she was looking at something beyond that.

"I have gone on countless missions, killed 207 people, and aided in at least 100 other deaths." She lowered her head almost all the way to her chest, and her stare returned to the lifeless body before her.

"But I have never done such a perfectly ordinary thing as dance with a man." She closed her eyes and I could hear her thick swallow, but she didn't cry. I had no idea what to say.

"What lives we lead, hmm, Shikamaru? I am not a woman. I am a killer."

She wasn't trembling and she wasn't crying; she was the embodiment of calm. But I could feel it; Ino stood at a crossroads. She could write this off, as many had done – and become the ruthless killer I knew she had the potential to be. Or she could embrace the pain of her job and somehow keep part of her heart intact. The heart of a girl that, I confess, I have loved for most of my life.

So I did the only thing I could think to do.

I stepped toward her as she turned her body halfway around to face me, sorrow set in the creases of her eyes. Bowing as elegantly as I knew how, I extended my hand to her. My voice catching only once, on her name, I said,

"Ino, may I have this dance?"

The words felt both foolish and heavy with feeling, existing in two worlds: one where anyone else watching would certainly laugh their heads off, and one where there was only her.

Those huge eyes searched mine, almost frantically, and she let a _"what?"_ that was more breathe than voice, her fingers twitching slightly at her side.

I reached out and picked up that left hand with my right, and placed it softly on my shoulder before my own went to rest on her side; my fingers tingled with the contact; how often did I touch her? More than most did, perhaps, but this moment hummed with sensation.

She was pliant and malleable and moving her was like positioning a rag doll, but her eyes were wide and fixated on my every move. Slowly, I reached down with my left hand and gently picked up her right. Her mask slipped from her fingertips and fell to the ground with a soft thud as I laced her fingers with my own. She looked up at me with those bottomless eyes of hers and I tried not to drown in them. I could feel myself exposing too much of my heart in my smile as I asked again.

"Ino, will you dance with me?"

Her eyes began to fill with tears and she buried her face in my vest. I heard her say her next words in a gust of breath that left me feeling as though the wind had rushed through me.

"_Yes_. Yes, Shikamaru."

She tucked her head under my chin and as the tears rolled down her face and soaked my shirt, I could almost feel her smile.

We danced slow circles in that clearing, and I held my strong, beautiful, fragile teammate in my arms as we waltzed to music unheard.


End file.
